


Between Stars

by tealmoon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Outertale (Undertale), Ambiguous Everything, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 20:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealmoon/pseuds/tealmoon
Summary: A child crash-lands onto a quiet, beautiful space station and sets out to explore.





	Between Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended listening for this fic: the album All is Violent, All is Bright by God is an Astronaut.

The entrance bay here is even quieter than the one back home.

The escape pod sparks and groans, in its crumpled mess on the floor, but that’s the loudest thing there. No hissing pipes, no distant beeping, no rare footsteps. They think _someone_ would have heard them crash in, or noticed an alert that there was a visitor, or anything at all, but they wait for five minutes and no one storms in to yell at them. Maybe this is a sidebay no one visits? That would explain why there’s no pods in here.

They’re banged up, but not so badly that they can’t stand. They still limp a little as they follow a path made by painted flowers on the floor, but it’s not a big deal, especially if there’s lower gravity on this new ship. The hallways are covered in buttons and levers, and they’re careful not to touch.

They have to pause and stare in awe at the tree. They haven’t ever seen one like that before, black bark and red leaves scattered around it, a few clinging to the branches. It’s only a pretty, creepy tree; it doesn’t grow anything else that they can see, no fruits or nuts, nothing useful that would justify it. This must be a really big-shot station, to have enough space or food that they can plant a tree that isn’t used for anything.

Beyond the tree, there’s a little house, the first they’ve seen since (crashing) _landing_. Maybe this is a maintenance worker who likes to live really close to work?

They don’t know whether to approach. Would they get in trouble for sneaking into a station where they didn’t belong? Would someone let them stay? Nobody from home would mind that, they don’t think. Maybe they could ask for another bandage, since their knee started trickling during the walk, blood soaking into their sock. The only one they had on them has already gone to their scraped elbow.

No one answers when they knock, and there aren’t sounds from someone walking to the door or darting into a room to hide from unwanted visitors. When they try the door’s panel, it slides open, unlocked.

It’s so _cute_. The walls are painted a warm tan, there’s flowers in vases, and woven rugs on the floor. Down the hall, there’s two closed rooms, and when they knock, no one emerges from hiding or a nap. Curiosity twinges at them, but it’d be rude to snoop in an empty house, so they head to the living room.

There’s a book laying on the floor, spine all bent from where it fell, pages creased. They hurry to pick it up and smooth out the damage, but it doesn’t really help. Whoever was here before must have left in a rush. Will someone come back while they’re exploring? Will they be in trouble for trespassing? The door was unlocked, but that could have been another thing they had been too busy to remember. Like the book, and the lights still on, and, when they enter the kitchen, a pie on the counter instead of in the fridge.

It’s cold when they poke at the crust, but it still seems good. They don’t want to steal food, but... But they hadn’t gotten much to eat before leaving the station. It’s such a big pie that one slice couldn’t be a big deal. It’s too heavy to lift off the counter, so they cut it there and eat it with their hands. At least they won’t leave any dirty dishes behind for the owner to have to clean up.

Sitting out for a while doesn’t make it taste any less yummy, and they have a second slice after a few minutes of pacing around the little kitchen and wondering if it was really okay to do. There’s a notepad on the counter, probably for grocery lists, and they jot down a little note thanking and apologizing to the person. It’d be easier to sneak away and leave a pie mystery, but the note quiets the awful thoughts of _thief delinquent horrible evil child._

Now they don’t feel so much like collapsing, and they clean themself up with bandages found in a junk drawer, making sure not to bleed on the plush armchair they’ve dared to sit on. ‘Course, then they have to go add those to the thank you note. Now that they’re fed and not bleeding everywhere, they can move on! Actually leaving is harder than deciding to, because it’s such a nice little house, but they need to find someone to talk to, soon as possible. People probably counted as stowaways if they stayed for too long without anybody knowing.

The hallways get colder and colder as they leave the tiny house, and they can see their breath. Maybe the person in that little house got called away to fix a heating problem? The walls almost feel frozen, and they snatch their hand away before their fingertips stick. Or maybe it’s cold storage, for food or people. That explanation would make the most sense, but instead, the path brings them to a living area.

A thick glass ceiling replaces metal, and stars shine down on a little town, with a bunch of houses and a shop. Sparkly lights hang everywhere, and there’s a sign proclaiming _Stardin_.

With no one in the streets. They check the store first, since that’s not as weird to wander into, but no one is behind the counter. It’s the same with the houses—they’re all empty, though the lights are on, doors are unlocked, and stuff is scattered around like it’s been left in a hurry. In one house, there’s a cold bowl of soup on the counter and a clean spoon on the floor, like someone dropped it before taking the first bite.

Sometimes there’s big station-wide announcements, where it’s so important that the captain wants everyone to hear it in person instead of over a screen. Everyone must have left for one of those. Must have been something big, like new shots that everyone has to get, or a sugar ration. Hopefully it’s not bad news, so whoever they stumble into will be in a good mood.

Still, their footsteps start to creep them out. There’s moving cameras in the ceiling corners, so hopefully someone will notice them soon, but more and more they feel like they’re getting in huge trouble.

Did everybody evacuate because of the cold? It really does seem like a temperature problem, especially when taking two steps into the next room starts melting the ice on their eyelashes. It’s humid and mild, so they expect to find food growing in the next rooms. But instead they find glittering walls, glowing mushrooms, and a bright river weaving its way around the path.

And the flowers! They’ve never seen flowers like this. These are nearly as big as the rows of sunflowers back home, and they shine blue, leaving little circles of light around the stems. It feels like they’re breaking some sort of rule by approaching one.

No one jumps out from behind a bush to yell at them for laying down in the grass, below its spread of petals, and listening to the quiet water. It would be nice if home had places like this. The stream is probably doing something for water purification or hydropower, but on the surface, it all looks like a place meant to be _pretty_, not useful.

-

There’s definitely something broken in this ship. Super chilly to humid to sweaty and gross? That had to be what pulled them all away from their homes. It'd make people sick, or make it hard to grow food, or break important computers, something like that.

There’s a big white building along the only path, shimmering in the heat. Making it there feels like they’re running along the surface of a sun. Already their clothes are sticking with sweat, and they can feel it dripping from their chin, their fingers, down their back.

Luckily it’s not some sort of mirage. Their hand slips on the door panel a few times, and they can’t wipe it off when their shirt is equally soaked, but eventually the door slips open with a puff of cooler air, and they stumble inside.

The sign said _Lab_, but it doesn’t look like what they’d expect. There’s computers and tools, but also posters of catgirls?? Wearing pastel space suits?? And some of them have swords??? It’s cute but out of place for a lab, though their only comparison is science class.

There’s a big monitor with a bunch of tiny sections, split up like the security camera they’d seen at a school tour of the maintenance parts of the ship. They had seen those cameras moving to watch them, so it clearly works, but all the screens have gone black.

They freeze when they turn from the screen and see a ramen cup tipped over on the floor. Maybe they should have noticed the scattered papers first, or the chair tipped over, but there’s something different about spilled food, instead of a plate left on a table. Something wrong—everybody knows not to waste food.

The puddle of broth is dry at the edges, but there’s still a lot of it, with noodles and little dehydrated carrot slices everywhere. Who was in such a rush that they couldn’t set the noodle cup on the desk? Maybe the thing that called everyone away was a big science emergency? Still, it’d take a few seconds tops to put it down safely.

It’d be a shame to leave it there and let the noodles dry and stick onto the tile. There are a few dirty rags that they mop up the puddle with, and another to carry the noodles to the trash. Then pushing the chair back onto its wheels, then trying to dab the broth off the papers. The ink is smeared on some of them, but they spread them out on the desk to dry.

It’s much cooler in the lab than outside, but staying for much longer seems rude. Maybe it’s those security cameras; even if the monitor doesn’t show anything, it’s recording. And cleaning up the mess doesn’t fix the anxious feeling this lab gives off.

So, rolling up their sweater sleeves, they exhale and make a run for it. A stretch of moving conveyor belts pushes them even faster, but it barely helps. Where’s the next building? Doesn’t anyone else besides the scientist live here?! When they finally reach an elevator and slap the door open, they take at least five minutes collapsed in the corner, trying to catch their breath and appreciate the air conditioning. When they wrestle their starry sweater off, it lands with a splat, and their undershirt is just as soggy.

It wouldn’t be so bad to live in an elevator, as long as people brought you food, they think. The carpet’s soft, other passengers would probably have a lot to say, and they were small, so it wouldn’t be that much more crowded. They even figure out the button to stop it midfloor, so the doors don’t keep whooshing hot air in.

But they are super thirsty, and there’s no one conveniently bringing them juice. A little hungry too, since they’ve spent so much energy sweating. Tying their gross sweater around their waist, they let their elevator apartment spit them out on the next floor.

Finally, _finally_, they come across a huge building and its own amazing air conditioning. And a fountain! They reach out for a handful to drink, but stop. It can’t be very clean, from all the coins thrown in. Their throat feels like it’s cracking, but they could only imagine how sick that could make them. They rinse the sweat from their arms and face, but that only helps a little.

The paths on the right all lead to quiet apartments, and they knock at a few doors before it’s clear that nobody’s around at all. When the left hallway leads them to a restaurant, they nearly cry, stumbling to the closest table and the drinks waiting there. They drain a cup of water and a second one of juice before they can slow down enough to look around.

Every table must have been full at some point, plates of half-eaten food everywhere. It was probably reservation-only, from how crowded it was. They take another water glass and a stray breadstick with them as they wander through the tables. At the back wall, there’s a stage that someone must have been performing an evening show on. They can’t tell what the show _was_, but there’s a dropped microphone and a layer of glitter an inch deep.

It’s definitely stealing this time around, since everyone paid for this, so they try to take only a little from each plate. Maybe no one would notice that they had three shrimp now, instead of four, or a missing bite of pudding. Once they’ve made a full loop around the room, they don’t feel so close to fainting.

-

The elevator at the... apartment complex (?) takes them to another living space, this one the biggest yet. It looks like a city spread out below them, all its buildings gleaming white and the streets empty. There’s no clear way to get down, so the follow the path, walking and walking and walking. It starts to feel like autopilot. Through a house and down a golden hall and on and on. No one there.

Their feet lead them to the prettiest room they’ve ever seen. A fancy throne sits in the middle of a huge circle of gold flowers, a type they don’t recognize. The ceiling, and all of the walls, except for the far wall, are glass.

Careful not to squish any, they tiptoe into the flowers, fingers soon streaked with glittery pollen from stroking petals. This has to be the captain’s room. Is the ship meeting room through the door behind the throne? It seems inconvenient to make everyone walk the whole way here, when a huge crowd would step on all the flowers. And it doesn’t look like any of them have been squished. What, did everyone tiptoe in single file across the thin patches of tile? That would take _hours_.

There isn’t any noise from the next room, either. Did they miss a path and skip the room where everyone was wrapping up their big announcement? It felt like it had been a couple hours, so the crew should’ve been done by now. Did everyone meet in the city that seems so far below?

If they wait here, someone will come back and find them. It’s probably rude to sit on the Captain’s chair, but it looks so comfy that they crawl into the oversized seat before they can think twice.

There’s a weird, shimmery rainbow shield above the station, kind of like the northern lights but in more colors. (They’ve only seen it once, but you can’t forget something so pretty.) Is it an asteroid shield? It’s amazing how this station is so fancy. It’s so much nicer than home.

Past the rainbow light, there aren’t any stars, a big blackness looking down at them. The flowers shift in a breeze, the soft backrest squishes against their cheek, and they sleep better than they have for years.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't care, it's my birthday month, I get to be pretentious if I want. 
> 
> :P Because it's my birthday month, let me know what you think, since this was maybe a little experimental.


End file.
